


Dry Brush

by tamlane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Corruption, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Ficlet, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamlane/pseuds/tamlane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets talkative while working on Freddie's portrait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dry Brush

**Author's Note:**

> **This fic contains transgressive themes, including references to underage sex and incest. Please review tags before reading.**
> 
> I came across [this NSFW gif](http://31.media.tumblr.com/f36beaea0d0419034047e8001d2e8337/tumblr_nojbotidA61uu2imeo1_500.gif), and Dean Thomas demanded I write him a drabble. But then he wouldn't stop talking, so it somehow turned into a 1K ficlet? Anyway, this is loosely based on [Ely_Baby](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely_Baby/pseuds/Ely_Baby)'s _Picture of Dorian Gray_ prompt, which deserves much more attention than I can devote to it right now. Hopefully Ely will forgive me for the tease, with the promise that maybe Dean will be up for telling more stories later.
> 
> I've drawn on Ely's Dean here. If you've never read her fic [I Dream of Painting (and Then I Paint My Dream)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2394164), do yourself a favor and check it out. It's insanely hot.

"Something the matter, Fred?"

Freddie Weasley fought the urge to shift on his feet. His mum would kill him if he messed up the portrait with a bunch of fidgeting. Then again, she probably wouldn't be too happy about a portrait of him sporting a huge hard-on, either. She'd be even more horrified if she knew what was causing that hard-on. Freddie himself was unsettled by it.

"No." Freddie cleared his throat. "I mean… it's just… that's my aunt you're talking about."

"Ah." Dean Thomas's paintbrush stilled for a moment, and then he gave a little shrug. "Well, she wasn't always your aunt, was she? She was young at one time, just you like. Curious. Eager." He went back to work, his eyes darting from Freddie to the canvas. "Forgive me. I won't talk about her if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Oh no, I'm not uncomfortable," Freddie insisted. "Just… well, I guess I was a little surprised is all." Who wouldn't be surprised to hear their aunt had posed nude for a portrait when she was a teenager?

"Ginny Weasley was always full of surprises." A faint smile lifted the corner of Dean's lips. "She liked to be tied up. Can you believe that?"

Freddie squeezed his eyes shut, as though that would block out the inappropriate images that came to mind. Perhaps he should try to change the subject, but he couldn't think of anything else to talk about it. And he couldn't deny part of him was curious. "Tied up… how?"

"Surely I don't need to draw you a picture." Dean was quiet for a minute, opening a small tube of vermillion and squeezing out a dollop on his easel. "We used whatever we could find," he continued at last. "I've never been one for spells in the bedroom."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Makes things a little too easy, I guess. So much of sex is about manual exertion, isn't it?"

Freddie didn't have much experience, to be honest, so he didn't answer.

"My favorite thing to use was her underwear." Dean hummed softly at the memory, swirling his paintbrush around and around between a spot of red and brown. "I'd strip her bare, and then I'd bind one arm with her bra. Other one with her knickers. Using the knickers was a challenge, of course. There was never much to them."

Freddie could imagine his Aunt Ginny squirming as Dean slipped a tiny scrap of lace down over her hips and wrapped it around her wrist. His cock felt swollen and huge between his legs. Hopefully Dean was working on his face. "And what…" He swallowed. "What did you do when you got her tied up?"

"Lots of things. Sometimes the most exciting thing to do was nothing. I loved it, watching her squirm. I'd tie her to the bed and take a seat across from it, just watching her get hot." He concentrated on Freddie for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then he chuckled. "I'd get so hard it felt like I was going to split my zipper wide open."

"Didn't you take it out?" Freddie felt like he'd give anything to be able to do exactly that at the moment. 

"No, I wouldn't touch myself. Just look. And sometimes draw. You wouldn't believe the show she'd put on for me. I never knew a woman could spread her legs so wide. It wouldn't take long before she'd be humping at nothing, begging me to fuck her. Anywhere. Mouth. Cunt. Arse."

Freddie felt light-headed. Dean had to be lying. His Aunt Ginny would never beg to be fucked in the arse. No woman would. Right?

"Sometimes I'd straddle her chest and just fuck her face for ages."

Freddie's fists clenched reflexively at his sides.

"I'm sorry, Fred. That was crude, I suppose."

Freddie suddenly felt defensive. "I play Quidditch, you know. I've heard worse." 

"Of course you have. I didn't mean to be patronizing. Still, I should probably stop there."

"You don't have to," Freddie replied a bit too quickly. He knew he should be angry. He should be horrified. The horrifying thing was that he wasn't. The horrifying thing was the way he couldn't help but imagine tying his Aunt Ginny down and shoving himself balls deep in her throat. There was nothing wrong with thinking that, though. Right? It was just a thought, an idea. "I … I don't mind, really." He tried to sound casual. "Did you ever… come in her mouth?"

"Plenty of times," Dean said, making short, quick strokes on the canvas. "And on her face as well. On her tits. Sometimes I'd paint her all over with it. And when I finally moved down between her legs, the bed would be soaked underneath her." He paused, dipping his brush into a cannister of linseed oil. "Sometimes I'd use a brush on her. That would drive her nuts."

"You mean you'd paint her?"

"A few times I did. But mostly I liked to use it on her dry." Dean looked up, giving him an inscrutable smile. "It would start out dry, anyway." He tapped the brush on the rim of the cannister and went back to work. "I'd rub just the very tip of the bristles against her clit. I'd make a game out of it. You know, tell her she couldn't move, or I'd stop. You should have seen the way she'd shake all over, trying not to move. It was exquisite. I'd torture her clit with the tip of that paintbrush until she was sobbing, tears streaming from her eyes."

Freddie blew out a deep breath. He knew the feeling. He waited, on edge, for Dean to continue, but he didn't. He worked in silence for several minutes, and then he set down his palette and picked up his rag, wiping his bristles clean. 

"And then what?" Freddie asked, unable to hide the desperate crack in his voice.

Dean gave him a smirk. "And then I'd bend her legs back and fuck her through the mattress." He began packing up. "And that's enough for today, I think."

"Are you sure?" Freddie felt frozen in position. He should want to run from that room, to wank himself silly and get some relief, if nothing else. But he had to know more. He ached to know more.

Dean laughed. "Yes, I'm sure." 

He made quick work of packing up, but then he would, wouldn't he? He'd probably painted hundreds of portraits in his time. Freddie felt an odd mixture of relief and regret when Dean threw his bag over his shoulder and opened the parlor door, giving Freddie one last look.

"See you next week." Dean smiled, teeth gleaming in the reddish light of the floor lamps. "And maybe then I'll tell you about the time I watched her fuck her brother."


End file.
